Dead Man's Daughter
by Heniko D'Myti
Summary: The year is 2024. Allyson L'ourax is another of the rare breed known as Daywalkers. Although she has no plans to fight the forces of evil. She's much too busy trying to survive... (Sorta A/U)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers:**

I don't own Blade. I just extensively remodeled his universe. I also don't own The Matrix, ReBoot, or the variety of other movie/tv shows/etc that pop up in DMD. Just to be safe, there is a large amount of naughty language, a fair amount of violence, and a goodly amount of non-graphic sex. Involving two women. Now that's that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the show. And drop me some feedback if you will.

  


**Dead Man's Daughter Part 1:**

As I Walk Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

  


1

  


_Dammit, I told that bastard to be on time this time. Its fucking freezing in here!_

  


It was too. The warehouse was abandoned, and the holes in the structure let the harsh January wind blow through. The diminutive figure took shelter behind the motorcycle that almost dwarfed them. Just as the figure was reaching for the bike's ignition, the loading door motors hummed to life, and the large overhead door trundled open. Headlights blazed into the interior, illuminating the teenage girl standing next to the bike. The fully buttoned vinyl trenchcoat and the long wavy blonde hair spilling over her face did little to hide the irritated expression as she watched the stretch limo slowly pull in. Engine still running, the middle doors opened up and four goons stepped out. One stepped back and opened up the back door. With great effort, and several grunts of pain, an emaciated figure emerged from the limo. The girl carefully schooled her expression to hide her revulsion. The man that stood behind a protective layer of goons was a walking corpse. Bone pressed against skin everywhere, and the exposed flesh was covered with purple blotches.

  


"You're late Delaquiox. You got the scratch?"

  


Delaquiox smiled a false smile. "Why my dear Ms. L'ourax, a bit impatient are we?"

  


The girl smiled a sweeter, even more false smile. "Of course not Roland. After all, I'm not the one rotting as we speak." She unbuttoned her coat and reached in, stopping when the goons instinctively went for their weapons. Slowing down, she pulled a small canister out. Dropping the smile, she spoke again.

  


"150k for a six-month supply. Last time: you got the scratch?"

  


Delaquiox scowled at the girl and motioned to a goon. The goon reached into the car and pulled out a briefcase. Putting it on the floor, he slid it across the fifty feet to the girl's bike. A genuine smile crossed her face, and she tossed the canister to one of the goons. The sick man snatched the object from the fumbling hands of the hired muscle and tucked it into his coat. The girl was bending over to pick up the briefcase when she noticed one of the goons glancing nervously to the darkness to her right. Trusting her instincts, she rolled over the briefcase just as the shot rang out. Snagging the 'case with a few fingers, she ran back into the darkness of the warehouse.

  


_Fucking bastard. Should have known he'd try something like this. _

  


Luckily, she had prepared for an emergency escape, and her earlier poking about had revealed a passage to a side door so full of junk that it was impossible to navigate unless you were under 5 feet tall. 

  


_Its about time that came in handy. _

  


Behind her, she could hear the muscle tearing the junk apart and Delaquiox screaming at them.

  


"Find the Runt you stupid bloodsacks! VanStat will have all of our balls if we don't bring her ba-" The rant ended in a fit of coughing. The girl quickly came to the small side door that opened onto the Harbor side of the pier. Quietly popping out onto the catwalk, she did a quick look about. And managed to catch the muzzleflash on the roof right before the bullet slammed into her side and propelled her off the walkway and into the water. One last thought ran through her mind before impact.

  


_God I'm glad they finally finished cleaning up the Hudson Riv-"_

  


  


2

  


In the winter of 2024, the nightclub known as 'Lillith's Delight' was **the** place to party in Lower Manhattan. 50,000 square feet of space and a definite 'whatever goes' attitude made for what one paper labeled '...the Club 54 of the 21st Century.' Which explains why, even though wind chills were reaching 10 degrees Fahrenheit, the line at the door still stretched halfway around the block. The door we're interested in though was on the other side of the mammoth building, in an alleyway. Labeled 'Authorized Personnel Only', it was guarded by a very large, very mean looking bouncer. Who was getting meaner looking every moment, as a group of partiers tried to explain why they would just die if they couldn't get in and met the group playing that night.

  


"Look man," the ringleader of the crashers wobbled a bit as he regarded the silent guardian. "Look, I know Jaiman on a *personal* basis, and I just want to introduce these bad ass bi-" His spiel was interrupted by a rough shove to his back. Spinning around to who was crowding him, he was greeted by a vision that rendered him stone cold sober. His friends were huddled on the far side of the alley. Directly behind him was a black-clad teenage girl that was drenched and covered in rapidly freezing muck, clutching a similarly coated briefcase. 

  


"Outta my way asshole.", the girl growled. A drug-addled chunk of masculinity rose up in Crasher #1 brain and spoke.

  


"Hey bitch, you can just wait your tu-." He feel silent as a cold metal object that was shaped suspiciously like a gun barrel touched the back of his head. From behind him, he hear a door open. The girl shot him an irritated look and stormed past. Crasher felt the gun leave the back of his head, and then heard the door shut. Waiting a few moments just to be safe, he slowly turn back to the door. It was shut again, and even the bouncer was gone. The only evidence that the encounter had even happened was the trail of really rank muck the girl had left behind.

  


"Fuck me...", the crasher whispered to himself.

  


Just inside the door, the heavy bass beat from the dance floor was the only indication that the vestibule they were in wasn't part of a upscale home. That and the lack of windows. The bouncer gently guided the girl to a nearby chair and she popped down with a small hiss. Kneeling down besides her, he spoke, his faint accent rolling his words.

  


"Ah, Allyson my dearie, bad night?" The girl nodded.

  


"Fear not little one. I'll go fetch someone to bring you some towels and let Mistress Fatima know you're here. Now don't go anywhere." The man flashed her a smile, and started down a nearby hall with a lopping gait. Allyson closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, groaning as the motion caused her shirt to rub against the entrance wound in her back. The bone-numbing cold that had dulled the pain on the 25-block walk from Pier 39 to the club was starting to dissipate, and the damaged tissue was beginning to kick and scream.

  


"Uh, Miss Allyson?" A hesitant female voice cut through the pain. Allyson opened her eyes and focused on the shapely young woman standing before her. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with long dark hair and pale blue eyes. She stood a few feet away holding several towels and trying to hide her nervousness. When she saw Allyson open her eyes, she swallowed and continued. "Miss Allyson, my name is Sophia. I'm sorry but Mistress Fatima is indisposed at the moment. She sent me to tend to your needs. Is there anything you need?"

  


Allyson eyed the young woman, smiling a bit when she blushed. "I need a large bath, a bottle of J.D., and a pint of O-pos, all warm. And a hand cleaning this gunk off. I don't think Fati would be too pleased if I tracked river mud through her living quarters." Standing up and sliding off her coat in one motion, she winked at the girl and held a hand out for a towel. Sophia relaxed a little and handed Allyson one.

  


_Maybe the Mistress's Favorite isn't as bad as everyone says she is_, she thought as she gave the smaller woman a hand.

  


3

  


Allyson settled into the warm water with a sigh of pleasure. The healing process must have already begun, as the wound gave only the slightest twinge when water closed over it. She just immersed herself fully when there was a knock at the door.

  


"Come in.", Allyson almost purred.

  


Sophia entered, carrying a small tray holding two bottles in ceramic sleeves and a glass. Kneeling next to the tub, she extended a set of legs on the tray so it stood next to the bath. Blushing slightly, she turned her attention to the girl in the water. 

  


"Uh, do you need anything else Miss Allyson? Not quite looking Allyson in the eyes, she continued. "Ah, I-I'm not that experienced, but I would try my best to pl-." She was stopped by a small hand grabbing her chin and forcing to look at the younger girls face. The servant's eyes widened when she saw canines extend through a lustful smile.

  


"Oh, I believe the pleasure will be all mine", came the throaty growl. Sophia let out a small shriek as she was pulled into the bath.

  


4

  


Delaquiox nervously glanced at the figure sitting behind the desk. At 5' 8" with auburn hair and viridian eyes, the woman looked like his choice prey in the old days. But Marie VanStat was one of the few beings that truly frightened Roland Delaquiox. Her beauty was accompanied by a impassive face, and a mind quite willing to do anything to get what she wanted. Her stunning rise to power after the La Magra incident was full evidence to this, and many of the House patriarchs both admired and feared this woman who went from a virtually unknown to the Chairman of Manhattan. And now Delaquiox squirmed under her icy anger.

  


"I gave you money. Manpower. Information. And for what? So you can come back here and tell me that not only you failed, but she knows that you orchestrated the hit. Has the Bloodfire totally rotted your brain.?" 

  


Despite his fear, Delaquiox bared his canines at this. "She can't be on guard 24/7. I'll get her next time."

  


VanStat spun her chair around to face the window behind her desk. "There will be no 'next time'. I cannot risk your bungling with the Board's vote of confidence so close. You're being removed from the project."

  


Delaquiox's faced flushed. "Now wait a minute! We had a deal! You can't ju-" He barely even felt it when the blade passed through his ribcage and penetrated his heart. At the sound of the slight gurgle, Marie spun her chair back around in time to see the blackened skeleton fall to the ground. The black-clad figure behind it was already cleaning off the silvered blade. Seating the shortsword in a hidden scabbard, they stepped over the bones and pulled down its hood, revealing a man's thin, pale face, topped with short brown hair. The woman smiled an icy smile.

  


"Thank you for taking care of that. I will of course deposit the appropriate fee in your clan's accounts." The man nodded slightly and then fixed her with a predator's gauze.

  


"The target?" He asked in a quiet voice. Motioning for the man to sit, VanStat reached into a desk draw and withdrew a large manila envelope and slid it across the desk. Taking a nearby chair, the man sat and opened the envelope. As he pulled out the photographs within, VanStat spoke.

  


"She is called Allyson L'ourax, although there is a very strong possibility that is not her birth name. She does not exist in any House or Clan records, so it is assumed that she was Turned." The man flipped through the photos, most showing Allyson entering or leaving various Manhattan buildings at night. At one picture, he stopped and his face took on a expression of contained joy. The picture showed the subject buying a hot dog from a street vendor in the bright summer sun.

"So your tale was true. She **is** a Daywalker."

  


VanStat nodded. "Yes, and despite what her physical appearance would dictate, she has been in the New York City area for at least 18 years. We have no idea how old she truly is, but her mannerisms would indicate less than a century."

  


The man digested this. "So she is a Ghoul variant? That would explain why she would be willing to deal with someone with Blood's Fire. Any special considerations?" 

  


The woman nodded again. "She has a rather intense dislike of males of any species, so I'm afraid you won't be able to get too close to her. She is almost always armed, although we believe she doesn't have any formal tr-" She was interrupted by the man's angry hiss. He turned a picture around and waved this accusingly. It showed Allyson in some sort of a club, sitting with a darkly beautiful woman in her early thirties.

  


"And exactly when were you going to mention **her**?" He did not raise his voice in anger, but it acquired a thick coating of ice. "Not even **my** clan goes against an Old One unprepared. And Al-Roshta is not one to trifle with under even the best circumstances." He rose from the chair and turned to leave.

  


A cold smile crossed VanStat's lips, her canines peeking out. "So even the great Clan Arkinas fears something, eh?"

  


The man spun around in a blur and stopped, pressing the tip of a long sword to her jugular. Canines fully extended, he stared down at her.

  


"Arkinas fears **nothing**!", he snarled. "But we respect those who weld the Power. La Magra was not the only Blood Master that existed."

  


VanStat held the icy calm. "Do you truly think Al-Roshta cares for this whelp? She is merely a passing distraction, a pleasure to while away the nights." She saw the shred of hesitation she had hoped for, and moved in. "Bring me this Daywalker's head, and the body, and its **blood** is yours."

  


The sword was gone as if it never existed. The man eyed the woman with a wary respect, and spoke. "The fee is now 2 million. And the blood tithe is now triple, excluding what we extract from the Daywalker."

  


"Agreed. The money will be in the holding account by tomorrow noon. The tithe will be deliver when I have her head."

  


She received a curt nod from the man, and she turn her chair back to the window, dismissing him. After she heard the door click behind him, she looked out over the dark Mid-Manhattan and chuckled.

  


"Soon, my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

1

  


_Mmmmmmmmm, silk..... Wait a minute, bath tubs aren't made of silk!_

  


Allyson's brain slowly emerged from a blissful slumber, trying to piece together its location. One blue eye opened, and focused on an ornate wooden post. Running her eye up its length, she came to the cover it was holding up. As her brain finally made it into first gear, the remainder of the night fell into place, and she smiled.

  


_It **would** have been a waste to keep it in the tub when there was a perfectly good poster bed in the adjoining bedroom..._

  


Stretching her limbs out to their full, albeit short, length, she didn't encounter any resistance on the other side of the bed. Opening both eyes, she sat up and looked about. The room was mostly in shadows, lit by a few indirect sources. In the darkest corner, she detected a hint of movement.

  


"Good Afternoon, sleepyhead." The husky contralto voice emanated from the shadows. "Are we feeling a bit better today?"

  


Allyson grinned, and in a flash of movement, made a low leap from the bed to the seated figure, landing softly in their lap. She quickly captured the woman's lower lip with her teeth, and released.

  


"Does that answer your question?", she asked with a smirk. With a flick of the woman's wrist, Allyson was landing back on the bed, quickly followed by a chuckling flash of dark hair.

  


2

  


About an hour later, Allyson was buckling the last fastener on her just-delivered cleaned outfit, noticing happily that the bullet holes weren't too noticeable with the coat on. In front of her, Fatima Al-Roshta was straightening out her own clothes after their impromptu romp. Not, an appreciative Allyson decided, that she needed much straightening out. The darkly beautiful woman looked stunning no matter if she was in a boardroom, mingling in her club, or tied to the bedposts with ripped silk bedsheets. At this thought, she blushed slightly.

  


"Ah, listen Fatima, those sheets are probably really expensive. Why don't you tell me how much and I can replace them?"

  


The other woman waved her hand dismissively.

  


"Think nothing of it child. Their cost is nothing compared to the knowledge that you enjoy my company as much as that of my servants." She fixed Allyson with a look so lecherous the girl blushed to the roots of her hair. 

  


"Speaking of servants, I haven't seen this Sophia around the club before. Where have you been hiding her?"

  


"She has been Uptown since I Marked her, learning the business side of my affairs. I brought her to the club to round out her education." An arched eyebrow was aimed in Allyson's direction. "Which you seemed quite eager to help with. Hopefully she will be able to sit down by tonight...."

  


Allyson shrugged. "I'd plead excessive youth, but I probably have twenty years on her."

  


A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. It opened to reveal the bouncer that let Allyson in the night before. Ducking low to pass through the door, he held out a battered but intact briefcase.

  


"Here is your 'case Miss Allyson. We found your motorcycle at the warehouse. That group must have been too worried about finding you to bother with it. Its out front ready to go when you are."

  


Allyson took the 'case from the man. "Thanks Casper. I'll have to bring over a beef side for you guys the next I head up to that butcher you like." The man's eyes sparkled at this. Turning back to Fatima, she thought for a second. "If it was VanStat that lit this fire under Delaquiox's balls, I don't think we'll be hearing from the asshole again. But if anything pops up, you'll let me know?"

  


"Of course." The older woman paused. "Some day you'll have to tell me why this woman hates you so."

  


Allyson's expression turned pensive. "As soon as I figure it out, you'll be the first to know." Her expression brightened a bit. "Tootles babe." With that, she walked out of the room. Casper shoot a glance at his mistress, and she nodded slightly. He too left, closing the door behind him.

  


3

  


The only place Allyson truly felt free was on her bike. There were no deals, no looking behind her back, no low profile. There was just her, the road, and the poor souls unlucky enough to cross her path. Luckily, the midafternoon traffic was fairly light. Cutting across the lower tip of Manhattan, she turned up along the East River. After passing multiple warehouse/wharf sites, she pulled into a service road. Above a half-mile later, she came to a chainlink fence, gate already rolling open. Pulling through, she rolled up to a smallish warehouse. Pressing a sequence of buttons on her bike's handlebar, she waited for the security system to authenticate the code. After a 15 second pause, a loading door slid open. Gunning her bike up the ramp, she entered the warehouse.

  


The inside was a stark contrast from the outside appearance. Instead of sun-bleached wood and powdery brick, fresh concrete and gleaming chrome dominated her garage. Allyson pulled the bike into an open slot, next to a half dozen bikes of various makes and models, and even an ancient hatchback car. Dismounting, she set her helmet on the seat and threw a nearby dustcover over the bike. Passing behind the vehicles, she came to a wall with two doors. After tapping yet another code into the wallpad, the door closest to the outside wall slid open, revealing an elevator. Hitting the single button on the panel, she impatiently waited as the door closed and took her up a floor. Exiting the elevator, she sighed.

  


"Home, sweet fucking home."

  


4

  


There was something to be said about a hot shower. Especially one in a shower custom made for one of less than heroic proportions. Soaping up vigorously to remove the last vestige of river muck, she hissed as she came across the bullet wound. Grabbing the small mirror she kept in the stall, she positioned it so she could she the area under her right breast. The wound was closed over and half its original size. Most likely, it would be gone by the next day. Grunting in satisfaction, she rinsed of and got out of the shower. Toweling off as she went, she made her way to the connecting bedroom. It was definitely a themed bedroom, full of satin and mirrors. Opening a side door, a large walk-in closet was reveled. It was filled with variations on the outfit from last night. Black vinyl shirts and pants, in myriad styles.

  


"Let's see. What does one wear when visiting Ghouls, hmmm?" After several minutes of browsing, she chose a pair of looser fitting pants and a tank-top style shirt. After getting dressed, she went to the very back of the closet. Pulling down one of the close-hooks, a large panel slid to the side, revealing what Allyson called her 'work stuff'. A black vinyl trenchcoat was hung on one wall, and several guns and holsters hung on the others. A life-size poster of Carrie-Anne Moss as Matrix 3's 'Uber-Trinity' covered the back wall.

  


Allyson knew that Delaquiox's attempt probably wouldn't be the last, and she had no intention of being caught off her guard again. Taking her favorite mini-Uzis down, she fastened the harness around her shoulders and hips, making sure the two machine pistols hung free along her sides. She then threw on the coat, careful of its added weight and stiffness. The material looked like a vinyl base, but it was actually 5th generation flexible Kevlar. Despite its lightweight qualities, it would stop anything non-AP up to a .50-caliber slug. Of course, if someone went for the headshot, she was still screwed. But you had to **aim** for that, and she didn't plan on staying still that long. As she was adjusting the fit of the coat and weapons, a phone rang in the bedroom. Exiting the closet, she scooped up the portable on the nightstand.

  


"Speak.", she ordered into the phone.

  


"Woof. Woof.", replied the aging male voice on the other end.

  


Allyson winced. "What now HEX? I'm a busy woman." _If he wasn't the best infoskim I would have shot him **years** ago..._

  


The voice sighed. "You missed a hell of a of a party last night Ally. Couldn't you have at least stopped in for a little bit?" The last part was delivered in a petulant near-whine. Allyson just rolled her eyes.

  


"No. Again, was there anything useful you needed to tell me, or do just enjoy wasting my time?"

  


There was a sniff on the other side. "That hurts kid. Just when I was calling to let you know I had some Class A news for you, you go a-"

  


"Good. I'll be there at seven." Allyson cut through the whining, and then hung up. Sighing, she through the phone on the bed and grabbed the battered suitcase from the stand she left it on. This night was looking to be **so** much fun.

  


"Well, no use putting it of any longer", she said out loud. "I just wish they didn't smell as bad...."

  


  


Allyson was mobile again, this time on a battered old 2015 Kawasaki Shogun. She liked her Black Orchid better, but one does not ride a $45,000 motorcycle into the heart of Co-Op City. The ride was uneventful, and she reflected at the rather interesting circumstances that led to her working with the Ghouls of New York City.

  


Every family had black sheep, and the Ghouls were said dark herbivores of the Vampiric lines. The result of a Turning that went horribly wrong, Ghouls truly were the 'living dead'. Necrosis set in as part of the Change, leaving them stumbling hulks of rotting flesh, depended on both blood and flesh to retain their mockery of life. They had been pushed into the shadows of vampire society, the equivalent of the crazy aunt everybody knows about but no one talks about. This was how it was for millennia.

  


And then the Blood Fire came....

  


Due to their alternate biochemistries, vampires were unaffected by the AIDS epidemic of the turn of the century. They grew complacent as disease after disease ravaged the human population, but passed them by. Proof, the Elders said, of their superiority. But then in 2009, the Fire ignited. No one was certain where it came from, but it seemed to be a distant cousin of the African hemoragic retroviruses. It was blood-borne, and it only affected Vampires, passing by the humans and fey. Even the Lupines and Trolls were unaffected. The infected vampire's internal organs began to dissolve inside their bodies. For 4 years, panic reigned in the Kingdom of Shadow. And then something remarkable was discovered. Ghouls, with their halted natural processes and rotting flesh, were immune. This fact was kept strictly secret, the Elders seeing a way to regain control over the unruly younger ranks after the debacle of La Magra. The Elders sanctioned research into the subject, and in 2021, they came up with a regime that held the Fire at bay. They used this monopoly of salvation ruthlessly, and soon the infected population was utterly loyal to the Elders. Unknown to them, a isolated group of Ghouls, all with previous training in the sciences, had come up with a similar solution. Knowing the Elders would crush them if they openly peddled their wares, they instead sold to those rich enough to pay for it, and rebellious enough not to want to toe the Elder's line. The Ghoul Consortium hoped to use the money made this way to develop the thing the Elders hadn't been able to: a cure. Which would release them from the closet of the family line once and for all. Which is where Allyson entered the scene. Being a outcast herself, she had no deep reasons for not working with the Ghouls (except for the stench). And being completely able to walk about in public without looking like a escaped George Ramero extra, she made a perfect go-between. Which brought her to the small alley she was currently in. 

  


Stopping next to a closed dumpster, she got off and hit a small latch on the side. The front of the dumpster swung down, and she shoved the bike in. Grabbing the briefcase, she then swung the front back up, completing the oversized safe-box. Proceeding to the end of the alley, she came to a large manhole cover. Grabbing the 200 lb cover with her spare hand, she slid it over, revealing the sewer entrance. Dropping straight down the hole, she landed softly at the bottom of the 10 foot drop and paused, letting her eyes adjust from the dusk above to the blackness below. As her eyes adjusted, she picked out the door at the end of the short corridor. She approached it slowly, mindful of the camera in one darkened corner. Reaching the submarine-style pressure door, she pressed the intercom stud designed to blend in with the wall. Clearing her throat, she spoke to the wall.

  


"L'ourax here. I have the Delaquiox payment." after a few seconds, a small light blinked above the doorframe, and the center handle began spinning. As the door opened, a fetid wave of air washed over her, causes her to gag. If it was possible, it was actually **worse** than usual. The door swung back, revealing Alex, Allyson's contact with the Consortium. A female of average height, Alex was in surprisingly good condition for a Ghoul, with only the most superficial lesions and discoloration. She motioned Allyson over to a table set up a few feet inside the tunnel. Allyson sat down at the table, jumping a bit when the door slammed shut. She set the case on the table and did her damnedest to breathe through her mouth. Shallowly.

  


Alex sat down across the table from her and pulled the briefcase over. Snapping it open, she quickly examined the money, and then shut it.

  


"Looks good. Anything to report?" She fixed her diminutive companion with a rather haughty stare. Allyson returned it without flinching.

  


"Yeah. Delaquiox took a couple of shots at me, most likely at Queen Bitch VanStat's request. Dunno if you'll have much future business from him."

  


Alex shrugged. "We have other people in our queue. The treatments were starting to lose effectiveness on him anyways."

  


Ally's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "That can happen?" _Might be something HEX would be interested in. Could knock a few grand off his retainer._

The Ghoul missed the gleam in the Daywalker's eye as she was scribbling something on a notepad. She answered absentmindedly.

  


"Unfortunately, yes. Certain House lines respond poorly to both versions of the virostatic. Its something we're working on." She tore off the sheet and handed it to Allyson, who glanced at the numbers and then stuffed it in a pocket. "Your confirmation numbers for the deposit. As usual, 15% within 24 hours of delivery. Is there anything else we can do for you, Ms. L'ourax?" 

  


Allyson stood from the table, and the new, deeper smell hit her again. Putting a hand over her mouth helped slightly.

  


"Hey, what's up with the smell? Its actually worse than usual", she blurted out. Alex smiled slightly and activated the door.

  


"That would be the Troll. It just arrived from Portugal yesterday, and its been...marking its territory."

  


Allyson instinctively reached for her guns, but stopped when she remembered the overall lack of panicky screaming and horrific bloodshed. She still paled slightly. This was something Fati **definitely** needed to know about....

  


"You're going to tell me you guys brought a **Troll** into **NYC**? Are you fucking nuts? What if it gets out?" She backed through the door, looking nervously into the shadows.

  


Alex just shook her head. "Its a sane one Daywalker. Perfectly safe."

  


Allyson snorted at this. "There's no such thing as a sane Troll. I'm outta here. Give me a call before the next shipment, if anyone is still alive." With this, she turned around and hurried out of the chamber, not stopping until she was aboveground and had the cover back in place. Pulling her bike out of the faux dumpster, she suppressed a shudder. Something big must be going on if the Ghouls were messing with the Firstborn. It has been highly illegal in the Kingdom of Shadow to transport Trolls to the Americas for over 2 hundred years.

  


_And with good reason_, Allyson thought as she kicked her bike to life. _There are still places in the Mexican jungles where no living thing dared to go...._

  



	3. Chapter 3

1

  


Allyson made the trip to Lil's in near record time. Parking the bike on the street, she hurried to the main entrance. It was still 3 hours until opening, so she easily skimmed through the small crowd at the door, nodding to the dark-clad bouncer as she entered. As much of a hurry as she was, she paused to admire the club. The inside of the entrance was occupied by a antechamber with several chairs and sofas, with a connecting coatroom that was currently locked. In the back wall of the waiting room was a set of gigantic wrought-iron Gothic doors with a pair of gargoyles on the sill. Passing through the doors, you entered the middle level of the club proper. Containing the dance floor and the main bar, it was easily the size of most other clubs. The second level was an extended balcony-style floor above the main level. The third level was below the main floor, divided up for smaller groups and other music besides what was on the main system. Allyson strode through the bustling staff doing the final prep for opening. A sudden high pitched whine broke over the speakers, lasting just a second. Most of the staff paid it no heed, but she saw the security staff all wince at it from their planning huddle. Heading over to the massive main bar, she nodded to its 6 keepers. Bellying up, she caught the head 'keep's attention.

  


"Hey Steph. Fatima around? Got some news for her."

  


The older woman shook her head. "Not at the moment Miss L'ourax. Miss Al-Roshta had some sort of business Uptown. She left just after dark. Sorry."

  


Allyson bit off a curse and thanked the 'keep. Turning from the bar, she noticed the security huddle had broken up to start their duties. She saw that Balthazaar himself had conducted the briefing. Which normally would be perfectly normal, considering he was the head of security for the club. However, he was also Fatima's personal bodyguard, and was never more than three steps from his Mistress. Heading over, she caught him as he was putting away the briefing materials. He noticed her several strides away and gave her a toothy smile that stood out against his dark skin. Balthazaar Sudhare was a man that made the old football players look like figure skaters. Standing a just over seven feet tall, he was almost 400 pounds of pure muscle. Allyson walked straight into his shadow without even flinching.

  


"Hey Bal, why aren't you with Fati? Your day off?"

  


The man smiled at the diminutive woman. "No, little sister. The Mistress asked that I stay behind as some VIP's will be arriving here before she returns. Worry not, she took Casper, Melchior, and half of the Pack with her."

  


Allyson smirked. "That's ok, I think she just keeps you guys around as ornamentation anyways."

  


This got a deep laugh from the bodyguard. "Now is there something I can help you with Allyson, or did you just stop by to insult this poor old mutt?"

  


Allyson sobered in a hurry. Looking around to make sure no one was with in hearing range, she hopped up on the table so she could be in the general vicinity of his head. Leaning in, she told him about the Troll at the Ghouls'. His eyes widened, and she saw the closest thing to fright she had ever seen pass over his features.

  


"Are you positive?" he asked in a whisper. Allyson shrugged.

  


"I didn't see it for myself, no. But I smelled its stench, and the Ghouls didn't seem to feel the need to keep it hush-hush." 

  


Balthazaar pushed the fear from his features, replacing it with a frown that she recognized as his thinking face. Motioning for her to follow, he headed towards a door near the bar. Allyson did a somersault off the table and did so. Passing through the door she recognized the familiar office area. Shielded from the club's noise by heavy soundproofing, this was where the 'up front' business of running Lillith's Delight occurred. Passing by several cubicles and offices, they stopped at Balthazaar's smallish but posh office. Entering, Allyson wondered again how he managed to get any work done in an office made for a normal sized person. But then again, he was hardly ever in here, preferring to spend his time at Fatima's side.

  


Rummaging through a cabinet, he pulled out a rather bulky piece of equipment and placed it on his desk. Lifting a handset from the face of the machine, he began to punch in some number. Allyson was silently impressed. She recognized the machine as a BP-980 satellite transmission encryptor. A very expensive high-tech piece of electronics, it made it virtually impossible to intercept the communication, much less decode it. It was also highly illegal to own outside of military/government circles. Not even Allyson's connections could get her to that level. 

  


Balthazaar finished establishing the link and began to speak to the other end in a language Allyson didn't understand. Of course, her linguistic skills were limited to English, Cantonese, and a smattering of Li'tealn, the Vampiric ancestral tongue. Balthazaar shortly finished the conversation and closed the connection. Turning to the woman, he had a small smile on his face.

  


"The Mistress said she knows about the Firstborn. And that no-one is to interfere with it in any way." 

  


Allyson just stared at the bodyguard, her mind whirring away. Fatima know a Troll was in North America. And wanted it here. _Argh, I hate it when she does these kinds of things....._

  


Outwardly, she shrugged. "If she knows about it, my job is done. Like I was going to tangle with something like that anyways...."

  


Balthazaar laughed, shaking the walls of the office. Squatting down to the Daywalker's level, he smiled a full smile, showing way too many sharp teeth.

  


"What do you say we go have a few drinks in celebration of the fact the Mistress knows more than us? My great-granddaughter has just joined us in this fair city, and I believe you two pups would get along fine." Allyson saw the twinkle in the bodyguard's eyes, and sighed to herself.

  


"'Zaar, I have no plans on settling down in the near future, so you can stop introducing me to all your great-granddaughters and -nieces and shit. God knows you're one of the few men I can stand, so let's not push it with the Mother Hen bit, hmmm?"

  


Balthazaar shrugged, and clapped Allyson on the back, almost knocking her over. "Whatever you say, little one. Would you settle for just the drinks?"

  


Allyson frowned. "As much as I hate to admit it, I have to go see HEX tonight. He said he had some news for me."

  


The bodyguard snorted. "Sounds like a wonderful evening." Allyson's frown twisted into a scowl.

  


"Whatever. I need to go though. If I'm late, he'll just make me stay longer. Tell Fatima I'll be by in a few days. Laters." With a nod, she left the office and wound her way through the club. Just before she exited, she noticed a unfamiliar woman on the second level. Dressed in a Security uniform, she was rather attractive in that lanky way most Pack members had.

  


_Hmmm, maybe I'll have 'Zaar introduce me to his great granddaughter after all..._

  


2

  


Across town, Allyson pulled her bike into a slot in a fairly crowded parking lot. Dismounting, she headed down the street. Bowing her head against the cold wind, she quickly made the twists and turns through the back alleys until she came to an unassuming door set into a warehouse-like building. Blocking her way was a general issue Goon. Stopping in front of him, she cocked her head impatiently. The goon just stared off into the distance. She cleared her throat. Still no response. She was starting to remember why she disliked men so much. So much for subtly....

  


"Get the fuck outta my way, asshole."

  


The goon looked down and gave her a contemptuous smile. "This is a fucking grown-up place. Get the hell out of here, ya little runt."

  


...in retrospect, this was a rather large mistake.

  


  


On the other side of the door was a good-sized entryway that doubled as a guard post. Four more goons had set up a small table and were spending the quiet shift playing cards. Every now and then one would glance to the monitor that showed the outside camera. One did so, just in time to see Allyson approach the outside door. 

  


"Hey Rob, ya wanna let the Boss know the Kid is here?" He spoke to another of the guards. "He's been... shit!" The first goon paled.

  


The others looked at him. The one they called Rob spoke. "What? Forgot to wear your cup today John?"

  


John rose from his chair and headed towards the inner door. Over his shoulder, he shot his coworkers a panicked look. "No, I just remembered that new guy Tim is on door duty tonight. You know how he is with kids...."

  


The other goons pale and dove towards the inner door. Before they could open it, the outer door crashed open, falling off its hinges. The twisted form of the poor new guy kept moving and slammed into the inner door, barely missing John. As the goons turn to look where the 3 inch, reinforced steel security door used to be, Allyson stepped through the doorway, guns in hand and Death in her eyes. Tim began to moan pitifully from the floor. No one else moved. They didn't notice when the monitor switched views, showing a computer-generated harlequin's mask, which was frozen in a smile.

  


"My, my, my dear Allyson. You certainly know how to make an entrance.", the synthesized female voice, full of suppressed glee, came from a hidden speaker. Allyson whirled to face it, and barely kept from putting several bullets into the monitor. The inner door buzzed and swung open, and the voice spoke again.

  


"Now if you're done playing with my staff, we **do** have some business to attend to."

  


Allyson put the guns away. Taking several deep breaths, she walked past the goons and through the door, not bothering to step over poor Tim. After the door closed behind her, all four goons let out the breath they were holding in. John looked down at the twisted body at his feet.

  


"When were we going to warn him about her?"

  


"Tomorrow.", Rob replied.

  


John thought for a moment. "Well, I guess this saves us some time."

  


3

  


Allyson strode through the warehouse, keeping the throbbing of her shoulders off of her face. Luckily, word travels fast, and most of the people she came across stepped out of her way. Sighing to herself, she wondered how much HEX was going to charge her for a new door. Looking around, she noticed that business was fairly brisk tonight. Of course, HEX ran a top-notch smuggling/black-market operation besides the infoskimming. She would have been happy to attach herself to his projects if it weren't for the fact that HEX was so determined to 'woo' her. She especially disliked men when they wouldn't take no for an answer, and they were too important to kill.

  


Eventually, she came to a door marked 'Lost Angles'. Taking a deep, calming breath, she opened it and stepped through. And into computer-generated madness. The room was circular, impossibly large. The door opened onto a small platform in the center of the room. Opposite the door was a stone throne. Lounging on the throne was a fully-rendered red and black female form, wearing the harlequin mask. A stylized cape flowed over the back of the throne. The figure's mask still held the amused expression. Allyson hesitated for a second, and then looked down. Her skin was a garish orange color, and her clothes looked like she just walked of the Aquaman movie set. Looking back at the figure on the throne, she gave it her patented 'cut the crap' glares. The mask was static, but its grin got bigger. The synthetic voice giggled from the proximity of the reclining woman.

  


"Can I help it if the young AndrAIa is the only overlay that fits you?", the figure said.

  


"Cut th....". Allyson stopped midsentence. She kept forgetting the computer did voice overlays too. She hated the sickly-cute voice she got saddled with even more than the body.

  


"Cut the crap HEX. What's the big news?" She folded her arms and glowered at the infoskim, which unfortunately made her even cuter. HEX waved a disapproving finger at Allyson. 

  


"What's the rush, dear heart? Surely you're not in a rush to leave you're good friend HEX, are you?"

  


Allyson counted to ten backwards, and the urge to shoot the informant passed. Barely. "HEX, either spill the beans or I walk. Or I start putting holes in your holo-projectors."

  


The figure in the chair straightened up so fast that the projectors could match the overlay. Allyson got a quick glimpse of the middle-aged man underneath the hologram before the overlay caught up. She smirked.

  


"You wouldn't. Would you?" The panic edged out the amusement in HEX's voice. Sighing, and mumbling something about sacrifices and love, HEX double-tapped the air to his right. A computer window sprang into life, showing a picture of an unremarkable blonde woman in her mid-forties. "Do you recognize this woman?"

  


Allyson looked at the picture. There was something about those blue eyes, but it was just a tickle at the back of her mind. She shook her head.

  


"Nope. Should I?"

  


The mask took on a sly aspect. "I didn't think you would. However, we found a digitization key imbedded in the picture. Looks like the photo had been altered. When we undid the alterations, this is what we found." HEX tapped the window again, and the picture was replaced by another. Allyson felt like she had just taken another slug to the gut. The original photo looked to be a portrait of a young girl, around 12-13 years old. And now the resemblance to Allyson was unmistakable. She stared at the innocence in her eyes and the easy smile on her face, and felt the intervening years close in on her. Shaking off the memories, she turned to HEX. 

  


"Where did you get this picture?"

  


HEX opened another window. It contained what looked like a surveillance photo, showing a woman in her early twenties talking to an older man in an office. 

  


"Her name is Samantha Talbeth. She's been in the city for about a week now, going to all the homeless shelters and charitable organizations that help the destitute." The mask raised an eyebrow. "She says the woman in the picture is some long-lost relative of hers. This relative supposedly came to the metro area about 20 years ago, and she's trying to track her down. I guess this relative ran away from a foster home, so she thought looking at the records of support agencies would be a good start."

  


Allyson was frozen, staring at the picture of the newcomer. She didn't buy the 'relative' angle. A school picture was easy to get ahold of, and if it was a family member, why would they start looking after 42 years, and then just stumble into her backyard? It must be someone working for Lab 28. Except they were all dead, she had seen to that. 

  


_Fuck it. It doesn't matter **who **they're working for. They are not going to find me..._

  


Allyson looked at HEX, who was staring back at her with a perplexed mask. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

  


"How did you find out about this woman?"

  


HEX looked relieve that she was back. "One of the charities she stopped at is one of my fronts. I happened to be there that day. You're just lucky I know the little I do about your past. That and I've used similar software on your picture in the past." A rather lecherous smile appeared on the mask. 

  


Allyson shook her head. If she killed him now, he wouldn't be able to help her. "Put the word out. This Samantha is to have no luck on her little hunt. Send me a copy of everything you can dig up on her, pronto. And if I catch you doing anything with my image, I'll rip those neural links out of your head myself. Clear?

  


"C-Crystal."

  


"Good. I'm outta here. Keep me informed." With that, Allyson turned and left the office, breathing a sigh of release when she crossed the threshold into the land of sanity again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Speech inside is in the Vampiric language_

  


Allyson accepted her drink from the server and leaned back in her chair, letting the deep bass rumble wash the tension from her body. Normally she would be spending her Saturday night down on the dance floor, but she felt like getting quietly wasted tonight. Besides which, the sonic dampers on the second floor reduced the music to a point where one's body wasn't being shaken apart by the force of the sound waves. She sipped her screwdriver and closed her eyes. The negotiations with the Hong Kong Mob had eaten up most of her time this week, and she was glad to listen to background babble that was in English, Spanish, and Mandarin. Anything but Cantonese. She was paid well for her services as an interpreter between the Russians and the Cantons, but immersing herself in the language had brought back bad memories, ones that were just below the surface after her visit with HEX. Sighing to herself, she pushed the reminisces back down into her subconscious where they belonged. She heard the cautious footsteps approaching her table a split second before she heard the hesitant voice.

  


"Miss Allyson? Do you mind if I join you?"

  


Allyson opened her eyes, revealing Sophia standing next to her. Smiling, she motioned to the empty chair. Sophia smiled and sat. The table edged the balcony overlooking the dance floor, and Sophia studied the milling crowd. Making an appreciative noise, she turned to Allyson.

  


"I've never seen so many different people all in one place before. Its amazing what our Mistress has built here, is....."

  


Sophia trailed off as a dark expression settled on Allyson's face. The Daywalker learned forward until her face was less than a foot from Sophia's. Fear rose up in her throat as she watched the other woman's canines slide down.

  


"Listen up little girl, because I'll only say this once.", Allyson whisper-snarled. "Fatima and I are business partners, companions, and every now and again we fuck. She is **not** my 'Mistress'. The only person I serve is myself. Got that?" 

  


Sophia gave a quick nod, and Allyson sank back in her chair, finishing her drink. Sophia sat silently for several minutes, trying to stop her heart from leaping from her chest. She felt the other woman's eyes on her. Taking a finally breath, she looked up and smiled contritely.

  


"I-I'm sorry Miss Allyson. Could we start this conversation over?" 

  


Allyson nodded her head. "Allyson, please. So how are things now that you live in the Real World?" Sophia was happy for the reprieve. She had heard far worse things about those that had run afoul of The Favorite's infamous temper.

  


"Things are quite good. I'm learning more from Mistress Fatima than I ever thought possible." She looked out over the crowded dance floor again. "Although it is a bit disappointing though." Allyson's eyebrow's raised at this.

  


"How so? Most mortals would be amazed that vampires and such things exist."

  


"Oh, it **is** amazing. But Vampirism and Lupinism are just genetic conditions. All the magic in the stories doesn't exist. I al-" She was interrupted by her companion again, but this time she was laughing. Sophia furrowed her brows. She was not used to being laughed at. "Do you mind telling me what is so funny?"

  


Allyson's laughter died down, and she wiped a few tears out of her eyes.

  


"I'm sorry, but obviously you haven't gotten to the advanced classes with Fatima yet if you don't believe in magic. Bring your chair over here." 

  


Puzzled, Sophia moved her chair next to Allyson's and sat down. Leaning over the railing, Allyson scanned the crowd.

  


"Vampires and Lupines do have genes that make them such. And Trolls.... Trolls simply are.", the smaller woman explained. "But we aren't the only ones that share living space with the humans. See that group of tall blondes over there in the corner.?" Sophia looked to where Allyson was pointing and saw a half-dozen pale blonde men and women, all very thin.

  


"Those my dear are Fey. From the Seelie Court I believe." She saw her companion's confused expression and sighed. "Elves, Sophia. Those people over there are Elves, just like in the Lord of the Rings movies."

  


"You're shitting me right? Right?"

  


"Nope. See that big asshole over in the middle of the floor? The one showing off his muscles? He's actually a incubus. A sex-demon."

  


Sophia sat back in her chair hard. Pushing a strand of hair out of her face, she laughed softly. "Well, I asked for it I guess. Any more magical creatures here that I know about?" Allyson scanned the crowd again, and Sophia heard her utter a soft 'shit'.

  


"Something wrong?" 

  


Allyson looked back at her and smiled. "No, I just lost track of time. Over at the main bar, see the woman talking to Casey?"

  


Sophia looked across to the bar and spotted the head barkeep talking to an exotic looking woman. She had a Mediterranean complexion, with inky black hair. It was broken by a stripe of purple color that flowed from her forehead to the tips of her long hair, which was held back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing normal blouse and skirt, but they looked like they had come straight off a runway model.

  


"Is she a demon too? Allyson shook her head.

"No, that kiddo, is a honest-to-goodness Goddess. One of the minor ones from ancient Greece." Sophia's eyes got even wider.

  


"You're telling me a **God** stops by Mistress Fatima's club for drinks?", Sophia's jaw nearly hit the dancers below. Allyson seemed amused by the human's reaction.

  


"Goddess. She's female. At least I think she is. Anyway, her and Fatima have some sort of history from the old days. She comes in once a year on the same date, and gets roaring drunk. Fatima says she lost someone close to her on this day. Funny thing is, she always pays her tab with 30 of those old silver dollars."

  


Sophia watched as the woman, uh, **goddess** talked to the people around her. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up, directly at the two observers. Allyson sketched a small salute, and the goddess winked an incredibly green eye. She then went back to talking to the people at the bar. Sophia looked at Allyson with a puzzled expression. The smaller woman shrugged.

  


"She actually an ok person when you get to know her. Although her mind does have a tendency to wander to the past. Can't blame her though."

  


Sophia massaged her temples. "I think that's enough horizon expanding for now. How's about we get as drunk as possible before Mistress Fatima gets back?"

  


Allyson smiled and signaled a server. "Sounds like a plan. Were is Fatima anyway?. She usually does some heavy schmoozing on the weekends."

  


Sophia shrugged. "Some sort of high-level meeting with the Board. She could only take Balthazaar, so I got left behind to fend for myself."

  


Allyson gave her best lecherous smile. "Well now I'm here, and I still know how to show a girl a good time." She smiled even more at Sophia's blush.

2

"Mistress Fatima Al-Roshta."

Fatima swept majestically past the announcer, Balthazaar's massive frame a step behind. Approximately twenty other high ranking vampires were scattered around the Spartan granite room. All had one bodyguard at their side. She nodded to several of the attendees she had dealings with. She smirk when some wouldn't meet her gaze. Somewhere nearby, a gong sounded. This was the signal for the meeting to begin, and everyone made their way to a massive mahogany conference table. Balthazaar pull her chair out for her, and she smiled in thanks. He then took position exactly four feet behind her. Looking up to the head of the table, Fatima saw Marie VanStat speaking in hushed tones to a nervous looking man. Once everyone had taken their seats, VanStat rose and cleared her throat.

"I would like to thank you all for making the trip to Manhattan for this meeting. As you know, we are here to fill the North American seat on the House of Erebus. This will require a two-thirds vote of all the Chairs of the North American Boards." As she finished, one of the older men narrowed his eyes.

  


"Then why isn't Brenerd here? The Chicago Board covers one of the largest domains in the Midwest"

  


VanStat frowned at the interruption and motioned to the man she had been speaking with earlier. The man looked around the table nervously, and then spoke.

  


"Uh, yes. My name is Cyrus McNaddle. I am, uh, was Chairman Bernerd's Chief of Operations." Several of the vampire shifted uncomfortably at the shift in tense. Cyrus continued. "Last night, there was a security breach at the Chairman's home. By the time we arrived, all that was left was ash. We recovered this footage from security cameras." He pressed several buttons on the control panel integrated into the table. A holographic display lit up above the center of the table. There was no sound, but the video showed a hallway littered with bodies and blackened skeletons. Several black-clad figures darted across the camera field, but it was on figure that caught everyone's attention. It was a tall black man, silver liberally streaked through his hair. He calmly walked through the carnage, and his aura of menace projected even through the grainy video. Halfway through the frame, he stopped and looked directly at the camera. He smiled a grim and humorless smile, the interior lights glinting of his sunglasses. The video froze at this point, and the table erupted in voices.

  


SILENCE! The frightened babble ceased at the thunder in Fatima's voice. Everyone turned to face her, and she smiled contemptuously back at them. You chatter like frightened little monkeys. Bernerd was fat and stupid and slow, and he was brought down. As even the lion can be brought down by a pack of jackals if it is not careful.

  


One of the younger vampires regained his voice before the others and glared at her. 

  


It almost sounds as if you admire the Daywalker. And you have always been against a direct confrontation. He is the greatest threat facing our nation, and you are content to sit back and let him continue the slaughter! He began to rise from his chair, but stopped as a deep bestial growl filled the room. Without taking her eyes from the upstart, Fatima spoke.

That's enough Balthazaar. DeMorian is no threat to me.

  


Balthazaar stopped vocalizing, and DeMorian turned bright red at the implicit insult. He sat down however. Smiling, Fatima continued.

Blade and his Nighthunters are no different than any of the other human groups that have cropped up over the millennia to face us. And just as with the Inquisition, or Van Helsing's group, they will be a thorn in our sides for a few decades, and then the spark that drives them will flicker and fail. She motioned to the image above the table. Look at him. The Vampire blood that runs in his veins keeps him healthy and strong, but Blade is close to his sixth decade of life. Within 20 years, his human life span will be over, and the Hunters will collapse without him. For now, he serves the purpose of natural selection: culling the weak and stupid from our herd. An uncomfortable silence insued as the others refused to meet Fatima's gaze. After several moments, VanStat spoke.

  


"No matter how we feel about the Blade situation, that is a matter for the House of Erebus to decide. Which brings us to our purpose tonight. Mr. McNaddle has been authorized by the Chicago Board to vote on their behalf. Any objections?" Seeing none, she continued. "All right. I open the table to nominations."

  


DeMorian cast a sideways sneer at Fatima. "The Board of Los Angles nominates Chairwoman VanStat."

  


"The Board of Philadelphia seconds the nomination." This came from another of the younger vampires.

  


The older vampire that brought up the subject of Bernerd cleared his throat. "The Board of Seattle nominates Fatima Al-Roshta." A soft sound of suprise arose from several of the seated figures.

  


Fatima shook her head. "I am afraid i must decline Chairman Faustus's nomination." The surprised sound became slightly louder. Fatima sat back and pretended she didn't hear it. A slightly annoyed expression passed over Faustus's face.

  


"Are there any other nominations?" No one else spoke. VanStat smiled to herself. "Then would you please register your vote on the pad in front of you?" Several minutes passed as the assembled dignitaries typed on the pads. As the last person finished typing, the projected image was replaced with a holding pattern. It was quickly replaced with plain text.

  


Measure for Vote: Election of Chairwoman Marie VanStat to House of Erebus

  


Yea: 17

Nay: 7

Abstain: 1

  


Measure passed

VanStat beamed at the other vampires. "I thank you for this opportunity. If that is all, I have prepared some refreshments in the moonroom."

  


People got up from the table and moved towards the door of the adjoining room. Many of the younger ones stopped to congratulate VanStat. Fatima made her way towards the newly elevated Chairwoman. As she wound through the crowd, Faustus approached her, a pensive expression on his pale lined face. She performed a slight curtsy, and a wry smile wormed onto his face.

  


"The time you needed to show me respect is long past young lady."

  


"And the time for calling me 'young lady' is even longer past, my dear Dominic."

  


Faustus held out his elbow to her. "Would you do this old fool the honor of letting him escort you?"

  


Fatima smiled and slid her arm around his,brushing her hand across his suits rich fabrics. Arm in arm, they walked towards the moonroom, nodding their heads to others in passing.

  


So, what was it you wished to speak to me about?" Fatima saw the pensive look flash across Dominic's face, but it was quickly suppressed. He let out a small sigh and turned to her.

  


"Would it have compromised your beliefs that much to serve in the House of Erebus? The whelp isn't ready by a long shot. I can smell her greed and lust for power like its a physical thing." He snorted derisively. "And the youngbloods think that that is a good thing!"

  


Fatima smiled softly and ran her hand down the older man's face. "I see the fire still burns within you Dominic. It was always your most captivating feature." She suddenly became businesslike again. "My refusal to be part of the House of Erebus is not simply a decision made from personal beliefs. It is better for the Kingdom id I do what I do from the shadows, without the scrutiny of others facing me at every turn." The had reached the refreshment bar at this point, and Dominic untangled their arms.

  


"I hope you are right Fatima Al-Roshta. I've worked too hard to put my House where it is to let it come undone because of the actions of a petulant child." He took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. "May the Dark Mother guide your actions." He let go of her hand and gave her a small smile before striding off into the crowd. Taking a goblet of wine from the table, she smiled.

  


"Old fool indeed...", she whispered to herself.

  


After a few minutes of sipping her wine and making small talk with the other bigwigs, Fatima saw VanStat in a nearby corner speaking to McNaddle. Excusing herself from the conversation, she flowed over to the younger woman, her ever-present shadow several steps behind her. Marie gave a false smile at her approach, and McNaddle managed to look even more nervous. Fatima took Marie's had and shook gently.

  


"I must congratulate you my dear. This is quite a step for you." With out removing her eyes from VanStat, she addressed McNaddle. "Go. Now." The poor man's eyes looked like they were going to flee before his body got in gear. After several seconds of stammering, he hurried away. Marie let out a small snort and removed her hand from Fatima's.

  


"You always were fond of that trick. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit mother? Balthazaar, you're looking well." She nodded to the man-shaped shadow, and he returned it. Fatima merely smiled predatorily.

  


"My dear Marie, you ceased being my daughter the moment you forsook the path I prepared for you. I merely wished to congratulate you on your achievement, and your great luck."

  


Marie raised an eyebrow. "My luck?"

  


"Yes your luck. Bernerd may have been a fat old fool, but he was a fat old fool dead-set against you joining the House of Erebus. How coincidental and lucky for you that Blade managed to locate his safe house on the eve of the vote. Especial since he was last reported hunting in central Asia."

  


Marie smiled, but it was devoid of any feeling. "Yes, I guess I am lucky. But they say chance favors the prepared mind, and you prepared me very well mother. Now, if that is all, I really must mingle some. You might want to try it sometime. Its much more satisfying than spending your life on the fringe, obsessing over your little schemes."

  


Fatima merely shook her head at the jab. "All I have could have been yours if you just had a little patience Mariana Al-Roshta. More's the pity." She turned to leave, and paused. "Once last thing, 'daughter'. Whatever this vendetta you have against my Favorite is, cease it. I would be most displeased if something happened to my best bed warmer." She then swept out of the room. Behind her, Marie's face contorted in anger.

  


"Fucking bitch. I don't care who you are. Its **my** time now."


	5. Chapter 5

Sophia slowly wound her way though the crowded club. It was just past one in the morning, and the place was packed. Squeezing past one final knot of partiers, she found her table. Allyson was still there, talking to a rather attractive Hispanic woman, her upper body weaving slightly. As Sophia approached her seat, the smaller woman spotted her and waved. 

  


"Gotta go Bea. My date's here.", she said with a leer. "Seeya Tuesday?"

  


The other woman smiled and agreed. Giving Sophia a speculative look, she headed of into the crowd. Not before Allyson got a good goose in. Sitting down, the Chosen gave the Favorite a withering look. Allyson tried her best to look innocent. The shit-eating grin spoiled the effect.

  


"Whaaat? Gotta touch base with my girls,ya know." The slur in her speech was quite evident.

  


"Your girls? You have a clientele?"

  


Allyson put a little too much effort into her nod, but caught herself before she slid out of her chair. "Yeah babe. Everybody wants to know what Daywalker tastes like." She leaned over the table and smiled seductively at her companion. "You want another go?" A spotlight from the dance floor swept passed over their table, and Sophia was startled to see that only one of Allyson's pupils contracted. 

  


"I think its time for you to retire for the evening Miss Allyson."

  


Still leaning on the table, Allyson shook her head, giggling when her hair fell in front of her face. "Nope, I haven't started pissing alcohol crystals yet, so there's still room for more. Besides, I can still touch my finger with my nose. See?" Allyson moved her right arm so she could demonstrate. Unfortunately, she was supporting herself on her elbows, and this unbalanced her. She made a pathetic attempt to steady herself on one arm before rolling over and off the table. Sophia was frozen in shock, trying desperately not to laugh at the mercurial woman. She was relieved when the sound of soft giggles came from the floor. A small hand waved over the edge of the table.

  


"Check please?" 

  


2

  


Sophia sighed as she sat down at her mahogany writing desk. It had taken almost 30 minutes to get the barely conscious Allyson to the room Fatima let her use when she crashed at the club. Weaving the smaller woman through the crowds was bad enough, but Sophia didn't know where Allyson's room was, and the living section the the back of the club was enormous. Luckily she had run into Casper, and Balthazaar's lieutenant was able to direct her to the correct room. The Daywalker had passed out as soon as she flopped onto the bed. Smiling to herself, Sophia opened one of the side drawers and pulled out a small book. Flipping through the handwritten script until she found the first blank page, she picked up a pen and started to update her journal. She sat absorbed in part of her daily routine for quite some time. She had just come to Allyson's drunken hijinks when she felt a feather-light touch on the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. It slowly traced the lines of her Glyph before trailing down the exposed skin on her neck. As the finger came to the fabric of her blouse, it withdrew, and was replaced by a warm breath tickling her ear.

  


"And how is my Chosen tonight?" Sophia could feel Fatima's presence envelope her, making her heart rate skyrocket. She suppress her urge to jerk away, knowing that was what her Mistress was trying to make her do. Calming her breathing, she spoke in a perfectly level voice without turning her head.

  


"I am well Mistress. I have been working on the assignments you gave to me." The hand resurfaced, this time moving down the side of her blouse. The sensation of the silk against her skin caused her eyes to lose focus.

  


"Very good. And your progress?

  


_Focus Sophia, focus. Cold water..... _"Ah, I was able to finish all 3 passages from the Book of Erebus ...", the hand wandered down to the top of her thigh, and Sophia fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. "... I have my notes and interpretations on your desk." The hand's sibling joined the fun, performing slow circles across Sophia's stomach. "A-and I spent the evening with Miss Allyson in the club. I believe I had several insights."

This time the whisper came in her other ear, and the hands merrily went about their business.

  


"And what did you learn from observing my Favorite?" As the question was finished, Sophia felt her Mistress's teeth gently clamp down on her ear and giving it a light tug before releasing it. At this point, she was blushing so furiously that she was afraid that the blood would begin leaking out of her pores. She was silent for almost a minute. Finally Sophia was able to get enough moisture back into her mouth to speak.

  


"Miss Allyson is haunted by her past. S-several times there were points where I think something reminded her of the past, and she didn't seem pleased." The one hand began move its circles higher up Sophia's stomach. "She is also extremely independent. I made the mistake of implying that she wasn't. She also seems to have some sort of problem holding her alcohol. I don't know if its her size or something else, but she became extremely inebriated after consuming less than I thought would effect a Vampire." Her Mistress's Presence faded from her senses, and the hands withdrew from her body, but not before one gentle caressed the underside of Sophia's breast. Relieved that the 'test' was over, she slumped at bit in her chair. Looking down, she realized that she had been holding her journal the entire time, and had unconsciously turned it into something vaguely pretzel shaped. Behind her, she heard liquids being poured. Shortly after, a plain glass goblet of white wine was offered to her. Gratefully accepting, she hesitantly looked at her Mistress. Fatima was smiling one of her patented neutral smiles, but Sophia could see a glimmer of pride in the Vampire's eyes. Downing the wine in one gulp, she set the goblet down before her still-shaking hands could drop it. Fatima sat down in one of the extra chairs, playing with a wine glass of her own. She took several sips, giving Sophia enough time to collect herself.

  


"Sensuality is both a toy and a weapon in the hands of a Vampire, and one must be prepared to deal with it, not matter the source. You did well Sophia, and you are progressing quickly." A look of true amusement flashed quickly across her face. "If a man had tried to do that to my Favorite, she would have rearranged his skeletal structure. But that is part of the reason you are my Chosen and she is not." Sophia blushed at her Mistress's praise. "As for her reaction to alcohol, it is a quirk of biology. Ghoul's lack the enzymes that metabolize ethanol. As a result, what she consumes does not get broken down in her system, and effects her more strongly. The positive side effect is that the ethanol is flushed out of her system faster, and without leaving the toxic metabolites that are so much fun the next day." She drain her glass and stood, handing the empty goblet to Sophia. "Know I recommend that you get some sleep my dear. We have a fairly busy day tomorrow." With that, she swept from the room. Sophia set the glass down on her desk, and let the remainder of the tension flow out of her body. She had planned on staying up a few more hours, but in the wake of her visitation, the woman was bone tired.

  


"Sleep good, But first, a bit more wine."

  


3

  


_Burning. It ate is way up her legs as her flesh charred again. She felt her hair catch and bring the pain up her back. Soon the pain from the spikes in her wrists and ankles were a distant memory, overshadowed by the fire crawling up her torso. She screamed herself hoarse, and continued until she felt the tearing in her throat, just as she had the previous times. Then she felt the fire slip over her face, heat popping her eyes in their sockets. She gasped in pain, and the heat entered her, searing her lungs before she could even try to scream...._

  


"NNNYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Allyson screamed herself awake, thrashing at the tangles that bound her. With a violent jerk, she was falling, and hit the floor without feeling it, the culprit sheets floating down on top of her. Sweat was pouring off her body in rivers, and her heart was practically fibrillating. She could still smell her flesh burning, hear the chanting of the crowd. In a blind panic, she scrambled towards the bathroom, knocking over anything that got in her way. Reaching her destination, she tore open the shower curtain and cranked the cold water to the max. Crawling under the spray, she let the water flow over her. Realizing she was still dressed, Allyson simply ripped the vinyl material off her frame, giving the freezing liquid full access to her body. Curling up into a ball, she sobbed silently to herself, letting the water wash away the memories...

  


Allyson came to with a start, her chattering teeth nipping her tongue. With a groan, her reach over and turned on the warm water and turned down the cold, changing the flow to a warm rain. Letting her body reabsorb the warmth her panicked cleansing had robbed from it, she sat up in the tub. With dexterity born of practice, she manipulated the controls with her feet, shutting off the shower. Getting out of the tub, she grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around herself, not bothering to dry off. Stepping over the shredded remains of her clothes, she walked to the vanity. Staring back from the mirror was a dreadful sight. It was a frightened little girl, her skin pale from shock and her eyes bloodshot from crying. She was wrapped in a too-big towel making her seem even smaller and more vulnerable. 

  


This definitely would not do. Heading back into the bedroom, she grabbed a set of spare clothes she kept there. While not her customary black vinyl, the black silk blouse and leather pants were cut in an adult fashion. Throwing them on, she headed back to the mirror. It was an improvement. Next she combed out her snarled hair and but it back in its customary ponytail. Now for makeup.

  


_You march right back upstairs and clean that stuff off your face right now young lady!_

  


Allyson smiled. Makeup was one of the rites of passage into womanhood. A little something to highlight her cheekbones, a bit of lip gloss, and a touch of purple eye shadow. Not enough for people to consciously notice, but enough to erase a large amount of the girlishness from her face. And then, the attitude. She straightened out her posture, stretching out to her full 4' 11". Shifting her weight slightly created the 'I could care less' posture. Making eye contact with herself, she pushed a slightly bored expression onto her features. She then put the slightly amused smirk in place, followed by the dangerous look in her eyes. Mentally, she rebuilt the construct she depended on. 

  


_That little girl is dead. Buried almost 25 years. My name is Allyson L'ourax. I'm lean, I'm mean, and I don't give a fuck about you unless you got the cash._

  


Allyson's smirk deepened into a dangerous looking smile, accented by her extended canines.

  


"Yes boys and girls, the Bitch is back...."

  


4

  


The room was sparsely furnished, and what was there looked old and worn. Sounds from the surrounding apartments filtered though the paper-thin walls. The occupant didn't care about any of this. He simply sat on the floor, studying various photographs by candlelight. Small and weak slivers of daylight played around the edge of the garbage bags used to seal off the single window. The man opened up another envelop full of photographs and began to sort them. They were all of Allyson moving about during the day. J'son Arkinas hissed in anger. He had spent this time prior to his activation making arrangements through Clan contacts for support in his assignment. The people that had tailed the diminutive Daywalker had done an excellent job, but the assassin was still frustrated. His target was either very smart, or very paranoid, or both. She did almost all of her business during the daylight hours, leaving only quick back and forth errands at night. Her home was a well disguised fortress, bristling with UV lamps attached to motion sensors. And Al-Roshta's nightclub was a safehouse, making it inviolate to Clan Arkinas 'business', even if he was foolish enough to violate an Old One's turf. The familiars and mercenaries he had at his disposal could certainly ambush the target during the day, but Clan law demanded that he himself complete the assignment he accepted. He would have to devise a way to draw her out into the night. But what bait would be sufficient? His musings were interrupted by a beeping coming from a suitcase on his left. Grunting in irritation, J'son popped the latch and opened it, revealing a small vidcom unit. The screen lit up, showing an icy-cold Marie VanStat.

  


"Did you receive everything to your satisfaction?", she asked without preamble. J'son nodded. "Good. The meeting has concluded. You are now Activated." The picture blinked off. J'son grinned at the dark screen, baring his canines. He quickly stood up and reached behind the bed's headboard, bringing out his longsword. Unsheathing it, he ran his palm down the edge, drawing blood. Wrapping up his hand with a few quick motions, he assumed a kneeling position, his sword held out in front of him.

  


By the Blood of the Arkinas, I sanctify this weapon for the Hunt. May the Dark Mother guide my hand, and let this instrument of my Clan taste the Blood of my Prey. The ritual finished, he sheathed the bloody weapon and placed it back behind the bed. Pulling the vidcom onto the bed, he began dialing numbers. He had a Daywalker to flush out....


End file.
